Perpetual Late
by tikkul
Summary: So, I wasn't sure where to put this, but i guess it could be considered mythology...um... it still needs work, and if you could give me pointers grammar wise/spelling wise that'd be great.... so, yeah. Be nice? all the characters are pretty much mine...


It's not like I meant for it to happen, it just kind of…did. I mean, he came out of nowhere, and then BAM! I'm riding shot gun at one hundred mile per hour, chased by god knows what, and only dark clouds with flashes of thunder ahead of me. The sky's glowing with indigo malice, the wind is screaming at me that I'm going down a bad road, but then, I look over at him, hands clenched on the wheel, his beautiful heroine veins bulging like intricate blue rivers under his skin, and red, red eyes. No other word for it, just, red. They're the kind that makes your heart stop beating, your palms clam up, and yet you want to get closer, so close you could taste them. It sounds gross, but it's only because you don't know the feeling. You never will, unless you were there.  
It was a Thursday when I woke up. The sky was grey, and I was late for class, again. I can't wake up anymore, I'm just so tired. It's not even like I stay up late or anything, but my sleep is bad. I didn't know if that's supposed to mean anything, like, I don't know if it was some kind of omen of the future, a premonition and I didn't dwell on it. So I got up, brushed my hair and teeth, got dressed, and struggled with my billion year old bike down the stairs. It was so cold that day, colder than mid-December, which was really stupid since it was almost summer. I love Washington, but wow the weather sucked. I was half way down to the second floor; our stair wells are so weird at this apartment complex, AND they are outside. Really dumb. I looked up and blew my bangs out of my face, and saw him. I couldn't see him too well, since I'm nearsighted and he was across the street, but I know it was him. This fuzzy human shaped thing in a forest green t-shirt and blue jeans, no jacket, and black hair, was I'm pretty sure watching me kill myself over my stupid bike. Oh, did I mention I was having a bad morning? Yeah, that's where all the negativity is coming from. I just get up on the wrong side of the bed and then everything it stupid and shitty and my god. I'm such a Negative Nancy that it can get rather comical. I'll try and tell it with a bit more cheer from now on, just to balance it out.  
I looked down to ignore his stare, and kept working on getting my fabulous bike to the ground floor so I could hall my cheery little ass to school, but looked up again not a minute later. He was gone, and I assumed he had walked away and turned a corner. That was possible in about thirty second, right? The corner wasn't even two blocks away, and he looked tall. I decided he probably walked fast. So I was hightailing around treacherous curves, getting flipped off by disgruntled driver, and eventually made it to school about ten minutes late. Out of the corner of my eye, as I was pulling my bike onto the rack and locking up, I saw a black topped figure on the other side of the parking lot, but didn't catch more than a glimpse so I ignored it.  
My day went on normally enough until lunch time, and I was outside in the halls with Miranda and Mathias, their tonsil hockey almost as obnoxious as their names. I always thought people with names that start with the same letter should never date, it's just too silly! Especially a pair of over the top names like those! It's just too much; I refrain from addressing either of them by name when both are present, to keep my sanity. Instead I passed time chatting up my two smallest in stature friends Brendon and Alexi, both measuring in at less than five feet. I found this nice, since I'm barley five-four, so standing next to one or the other is a major confidence boost. In fact, I was actually explaining that to my short pals when Miranda managed to pull her face of Ma—ugh…. Her boyfriend's—for a second to tap me on my shoulder and point out to me the stranger walking towards us.  
"Blaise, go talk to that guy." She instructed, smiling at me. I groaned.  
"Why? I'm eating." To further my point I took a bite of Brendon's apple and chewed lazily at her.  
"One," She pinched me, "He's been staring at you for ten minutes and two," She wiped my mouth with her sleeve and pushed me towards him, "If you had your glasses on you'd see that he's sexy as hell."  
"Should you be saying things like that around Mathias? It's might hurt his ego." I called behind me, walking on to meet my doom. A very, very sexy doom. Hello handsome, wanna go out some time? My you have great hair and beautiful…red….eyes? Must be contacts.  
"Un…dum…ha…" I muttered in an attempt to express my shock and dismay to this man. He stood there, staring down at me while I struggled, an unreadable expression organized with his features. I pressed on.  
"Buh….d…Did you want….something?" I pulled together finally, smiling in a failed attempt at cool. Then he spoke to me. Lordy, if voices could have sex, mine would jump his' bones. I was so preoccupied with the fornicational value of his voice; I didn't quite catch what he said.  
"Uh…wha..?" I blathered, annoyed now that I couldn't talk like I had any brain cells, and didn't really know what to do about it. I decided the best solution was to look away, so his image wouldn't play brain leach with my thought process.  
"Your name. What is it?" He asked again.  
"Didn't your mother ever tell you that fairies don't give out their names?" I replied, hoping I could redeem myself with some comedy. I'm a very funny person. Honest. This talking to the ground thing really helps by the way, since I'm no longer distracted by face value. God that face must be worth a fortune.  
"You're not a fairy." He replied, moving to my side and leaning to my height, he must have been a foot taller than me, focusing on where I gazed. "What are you-"  
"True." I interrupted, turning from him and walking towards the wall, as if I was reading one of the many signs plaster across it. "Then my name is Blaise." He laughed, very hard in fact, and I was confused. "What?"  
"Your name…" He snickered slightly, "It fits."  
"What do you mean?" I asked, biting my nail out of habit, I felt anxious, and embarrassed for some reason. I could feel him close behind me, leaning in to whisper in my ear.  
"In Latin, it means 'Stutterer'." His tone was mean.  
"Oh, well then your name must be Scrotumus, because you're acting like a dick." I sneered, moving closer to the wall and farther from him.  
"I wasn't trying to make fun of you; I just thought it was ironic." He muttered, and sighed. I let silence settle for a moment then spoke.  
"What's your name?" My voice was gentler, though I wasn't any less angry at him laughing at mine.  
"You tell me." He said this so smoothly, so coolly, my knees went weak a little, the man was a walking pheromone. That alone bugged the hell out of me, so I decided to regain control. I acted like I was thinking for a solid minute, and then looked at him. My face was so serious I could have won an Oscar when I answered.  
"Delilah."  
He tensed up, looking like volcano erupting, then stormed off. I kinda felt a little bad, but that passed pretty quickly. I went back to my friends, ignoring Miranda's confused facial expressions and ran off at the bell.  
I didn't stop thinking about that guy for the rest of the day, and could barley focus on homework. He was like Senioritus mixed with ADD—pure evil. An hour later I relinquished and went to bed, succumbing to strange dreams and light sleep, and cramps. My period just had to coincide with my meeting a strange boy who knew Latin, perfect! Needless to say, I woke up late again. And again, and again, as was the norm for a week and a half. No sign of Delilah and life was routine once more. But it didn't last.  
"Hey." He said, leaning against the rail next to my bike.  
"Hi." I replied, shocked but no longer dumb founded, more jut annoyed. "What are you doing here?" I moved to unlock my bike. Late late late.  
"Let me give you a ride to school. I need to talk to you." He put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt a slight spark. Just hormones, nothing more. I think.  
"Uh, no. I've got my bike, I'm good." I brushed his hand away, prying at my lock with the key, both being slightly bent from excessive use. I'm pretty sure I was sneering because of this.  
"Really, Blaise, I need to talk to you, please." Again he put his hand on me, grabbing my arm in a gesture of urgency. I sighed and turned to face him.  
"Really 'Jack'," I had decided earlier on that if I ever met this guy again, I'd never address him by the same name, "I'm fine. Back off."  
He let go of me, and kneeled down. I backed away as I heard a snap and jingle, and saw my bike chain hanging limp and broken in his hand.  
"Oh you dick."  
"Oh, darn. I'll give you a ride, and we can pick up a new chain when you're out of school." His voice was forceful, and kind of scared me. At this point in time I began to see him as one of those creeps out of the Lifetime channel, the abusive sociopathic chauvinists. Yeah, kind of scary.  
"Um, look. I'll just walk. You're freaking me out a bit and I'm pretty uncomfortable getting in a car alone with you…." I mumbled, backing away further—that's so nice, just tail tucked and running, for all the good it did me. Every step I took away from him, he took a stride closer to me, until twice now he had me cornered against a wall.  
"Blaise, I'm sorry. I'm not trying… I don't want to scare you. It's just that I have…. I need to talk with you. Please." Why am I such a weenie? I groaned.  
"Okay, look. Fine. Fine! But if you kill me and leave my body in a ditch, I'm going to curse you so bad; it'll hurt when you pee." I agreed, scratching my head and following him down to his car. I might have seen him laugh, but I don't know. It was a pretty morbid joke, might have just been me…  
'Click' went the seat belts, 'vroom' went the car, ect., we didn't talk much. Not until he took a left when it should have been a right, yeah….I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I do this? I glared at him.  
"Okay Sparky, what are you pulling? Get me to school."  
He didn't answer, but pulled the car up a dirt road and into a gravel clearing. Looked like a construction sight maybe. Great place to hide a body.  
"Um, about that whole killing me thing-"  
"I'm not going to kill you, stupid. You don't have to be so paranoid, I have no intention of harming you what so ever, so can you please drop it?" His tone was annoyed, and I guess I could understand that. I mean really, I bet my paranoia can be suffocating.  
"Okay, alright. Sorry. I'm here, you're here, what d'ya need?" I relented, again feeling slightly guilty for my behavior. I'm kind of like that, you know? Not spineless, but not confident enough to be a bitch when needed. I just feel too bad too quickly to want to keep it up. It's a character flaw.  
"Have you been having any weird dreams lately?" He asked; no lead up or anything.  
"Well, now that you mention it Freud, I have. I think it has something to do with my mother—or bad fish. Is that all you wanted to know? If I'm sleeping well?" I crossed my arms.  
"No, I couldn't care less if you are sleeping well; I need to know about your dreams." He unbuckled and put his feat on the wheel. Out of the corner of his eye he addressed me. "You're really starting to wear me out. Either you think I'm going to kill you, attacking me with sarcasm, or apologizing. Can you just be strait with me? I can't keep up."  
I was silent.  
"So, dreams?" he prompted after a moment. I chewed on my lip a little.  
"Dreams, yeah. Okay… I have the feeling I know what dreams you're looking for." I thought back, to when it started. I had a few dreams that were too vivid to forget, too lyrical.  
"Tell me about them." He inquired, pushing for more.  
I hesitated. "Well, not to be corny, but there was an angel—I know for a fact he was an angel, even if he didn't have wings." Pausing, I looked over at him, up until that point I had been gazing off ahead of me. He nodded in encouragement.  
"So there was this angel, and he was sitting in this well lit room, though all the lights were candles. There were thousands of them, in all different colors. He was hunched over on this stool; the stool was covered by a sheet that had candle wax splatters across it. They looked like wild flowers, and the sheet cascaded in a lopsided way, and it just seemed to flow out and fill the whole room. And the angel was crying…" I pulled my knees to my chin and rested my head, my eyes closed to imagine the dream again.  
"I asked him what was up, and he looked up at me, but it was like he looked passed me. Then I saw he was blind. His eyes were white like the sheet, with blue freckles dotted all around. He told me that he was broken. He had lost two other parts of himself over the years, and because of that he was dying. I wanted to help him so bad; I said I'd do anything. He asked…" I let it hang there. "Paco, why are you asking me about all this?"  
"Don't stop, what did he ask you?" he urged, his voice a sedated wild—calm on top, but the undertones were frantic.  
"He asked if I meant it, and I said yes. Then he kissed my forehead and I woke up. The end." I finished.  
"Okay." He said, now sitting cross-legged and facing me, his chair laid all the way back to make room for his long legs. "What about the next dream."  
"Next dream?"  
Hold still.  
Stop it! No, Please! Stop!  
Hold still! Be a good girl and this will be fun for you too.  
No! Please, no!  
"I can't remember any more after that."  
"Really?" He looked skeptical.  
Ow, this hurts. Why, why me? I want to die, oh god please. Please let me go.  
Filthy bitch.  
"Really."  
"Don't lie to me. I need to know." He put his hand out, resting it on mine. I jerked away.  
"There aren't any more. Why do you need to know anyway? I don't even know you. Why should I be telling you about my nightmares? Who are you?" My voice grew shriller with ever question, but he stayed calm.  
"Please Blaise, I know this will be hard for you, but I need you to tell me the next dream. Please, this is the most important thing I would ever ask of you." He grabbed my hand again, not letting go when I pulled away. Tears pricked my eyes, and I hid my face in my knees.  
"Please don't. I just want to go to school. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Please." He rubbed my back with his other hand and moved in closer to me, I couldn't imagine it was very comfortable.  
"Blaise," He muttered to me, his voice achingly gentle, "Tell me Blaise, let me know why you're crying." It was so sincere, I wasn't aware of my speaking until after I said it.  
"I was raped." I sobbed, clenching my jaw, but that didn't stop the torrent that came soon after. Like a mudslide the pain came rushing out, for this complete stranger to see.  
"I was in a cavern and there were stalagmites everywhere, and it was dark and cold, and there was this guy. He looked like the angel but his eyes were black and his hair was longer, and he looked mean. He looked like a monster. I got scared, and I ran away, but he caught me, and threw me to the ground, and he…" I wept and coughed, and the man hushed me, petting my hair.  
"I know it's hard, but did he say anything to you? Did anything else happen?"  
I felt so hurt and angry that he would ask that, like he didn't even care how difficult it was to address a topic like that. But something told me there was more to the dream I was forgetting.  
"I… I think so… He spoke to me the whole time, telling me to behave… cooperate and it would be easier…." It was agonizing to remember the dream, and digging deeper was like salt in the wounds, but there was something there, I knew it. "And then…then I felt warm. He had stopped, and turned away, and there was someone else there, next to me….embracing me. I think…it was the angel. He said I had to forgive the monster. If I ever wanted to get out of there, I had to forgive him for hurting me…or else it would just happen again and again…Forever." I choked out the words, sniffling here and there.  
We sat for what seemed like hours, an entire school stay spent sitting in the passenger seat of his car, reflecting on my words. Finally, he spoke to me again.  
"Did you? Forgive him, I mean."  
I breathed in deep, and exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I did. I was laying there, a bloodied and broken mess, and I just looked at him. I didn't think he could hear me, but I said "I forgive you. I'm not mad. It's okay. I forgive you." And he whirled around and looked at me, wild-eyed, and sad. He started crying, and fell to his knees, wailing out apology after apology, and cradled me in his arms. I fell asleep to the sound of his regret, and woke up in my bed. It was a weird, painful experience." I laughed, very uncommon for what we had just discussed. "But then again it's like 'No shit, Sherlock. Of course it's hard, and it wasn't even real.' You know?"  
He looked at me, a quirky, thoughtful gaze.  
"Actually," I said, filling the silence of his regard with my words, "I should be getting home now, what time is it?" I check my phone's clock, and marvel at the time.  
"Wow, seven, yeah we have to go Bobby, I have dinner." I smiled and looked back at him, but he wasn't calm anymore.  
"Blaise."  
"Yeah?" I asked, feeling awkward yet again.  
"Tell me my name." He stated. It was a demand, and a very strange on.  
"I don't know it, Buck, that's why I'm making them up as I go."  
"You do know it, just think. What is my name?" He insisted. I was getting freaked out again, which sucked. I was starting to like him.  
"Well fuck, I don't know, Rumplestiltskin?" I asked, shrugging.  
He screamed, but it wasn't like a scream. It was like a growl sigh, and it didn't sound happy. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me quickly, getting my attention and scaring the crap out of me.  
"This isn't a game Blaise. Think! What is my name?"  
"I..I..." I concentrated, going back to the dreams he was so interested in, but nothing stuck out, and angel and a monster, good and bad, heaven and hell. "Lucifer? Satan? Damien?" I offered, trembling.  
"No! Religion doesn't know my name! Only you do!" I began to cry. He was crazy.  
"I don't! Please stop, I don't know it….please." I begged, shrinking away as far as I could in his grasp. He released me, pushing his hair back and groaning in frustration. Time ticked by again, though this time much shorter, and then he started the car. We didn't talk on the way home. When we got there, he looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't, so I left.  
The next morning my bike was fixed, and I wasn't late. Awesome, though I wouldn't have mattered anyways. First period was a study period, and due to important topics, I called a powwow with my three closest friends to confide and decided my fate.  
"Wow." Miranda said, leaning father back in the chair. We sat in a circle in the old Orchestra storage room, our things sprawled out around us and food in the center. Meetings always called for early lunches, that just how they were done.  
"Yeah. Weird. Are you sure you're not on drugs?" Catalina agreed, typing away on her laptop. Her logical and organized fashion meant notes to look back on and take reference from. This had been proven extremely useful more than once.  
"Strait edge, promise. I'm not joking, and I'm not crazy, and this guy is counting on me to figure out his name." I assured, scratching my arms, and sniffling. The rape dream was hard to share, no matter what.  
Chloe patted my shoulder and stirred her cup of noodles.  
"Those dreams were really weird. I feel like, there should be another one to go with them, to tie things up, you know?" Miranda mused, looking at me.  
"Well…" I sighed, Catalina cut me off.  
"There's another dream, isn't there?"  
"How do you do that?" I asked, but let it go. "Yeah, there is. I didn't tell him because it was awkward. I mean the second dream was hard, but the third was impossible. I mean, we kissed in it."  
"What?" Chloe asked, and I realized how that might have sounded.  
"No, I mean, in my last dream, the guy in it and No-name look exactly alike, and I kissed the guy in my dream."  
"Wait, you could tell him about how you got raped in your dream, but not about how you kissed someone like him in a different dream?" Catalina criticized.  
"Lame." Miranda added.  
"No, I could see how that would be hard." Chloe sympathized, "I mean, the rape thing was a different guy, it's less personal than 'I kissed someone who looked like you', because 'I kissed someone who looked like you' can easily become 'I kissed you' or 'I want to kiss you', you know?"  
"Thank you!" I smiled triumphantly.  
"Uh-huh." Catalina was not convinced. "Whatever, what was the last dream?"  
I stretched out, and yawned, warming up my storytelling chops.  
"Well, I'm in this throne room-ball room thing, and there are people everywhere, all around me, and they are dancing about. It's like that once scene from The Labyrinth you know? And everyone was wearing these fancy ball gowns and suits and masks, it was total copyright. So I'm there, and I look out past the crowd and see the guy, in a black tee-shirt and jeans, leaning lazily onto the arm of this huge throne, looking utterly bored. But it turns out when I get closer, he didn't actually look bored, he looked dead and sad and asleep, even though his eyes were open. I felt so bad, because he looked broken, like he was missing parts, and then I thought about the angel, and suddenly in my head I heard the angel's voice. 'He's frozen.' the angel says, and I put my hand out and touch the guy's face, and it's colder than ice. Then angel tells me I need to wake him up, unfreeze him somehow and make his heart beat again. So I try and figure it out, and end up sitting on his lap with my arms around his neck, trying to share my body heat because I realize It's not just him that's cold, it the whole room. But it's no use, and I'm shivering away with nothing to show for it. But then I figure I just need to get him a heart that beats, since his is obviously the broken part in him, and I ask the angel 'Where can I find this guy a heart?' and the angel's like: 'Yours is the only heart that's worth anything around here.', and I get what I'm supposed to do."  
I stop to ajust myself, uncrossing my legs and crossing them another way, pushing my bangs back from my eyes.  
"I look over and there's this knife 'conveniently' placed on the side table next to us, and I pick it up and cut open his chest. Inside is this little mettle heart-thing that I take out and put in my pocket, then I cut open my chest and take out this glowing thing that I thought was my heart and put it inside him. But then I freeze and fall on the ground, and the guy stands up over me and looks really confused. Then the Angel appears next to him and so does the Beast and they all start talking." I wave my hands around my head wildy and jesture for effect.  
"The Guy's like 'What the hell? Why did she do that?' and the Angel's like 'I think she meant to give you her heart, but gave you her soul instead and now is dying because of it. We need to fill up the hole with something to save her.', then the Beast picks up the Guy's old heart and hand's it to the guy saying 'We owe her a lot, she wasn't even trying to gain anything out of this and now she's dying. Fix it.' So the guy cuts open my heart and sticks his old one inside of it, and I can move again." I paused for a breath, and because Catharina interrupted me.  
"God that is so like you." She sounded annoyed. "Give up your very life to save the devil. It's your own damn fault, you push over." Miranda sighed.  
"Chill Cat, it's just a character flaw, we all have them. Blaise just tends to have more than the rest of us."  
"Oh haha, guys. So funny." I sneered. " Anyways, I wasn't done, it get's weird after that. We start to dance, and I kiss him, and we're spinning around in circles. Then we kiss again, but then his eyes fall out of his head, these crazy, shining rubies that are the purest color of red. They land in my hand and turn into fruit, and I bite into one and it tastes like apples and passion fruit and strawberries, cherries, and pomegranates—this sweet delicious thing that Jamba Juice would kill for, and the juice trickled down my chin and drops to the floor. Then the droplets turn into fire, and they spread to fill the entire room, and engulf us, but it doesn't hurt. My dress is made of fire and we dance in the warmth, then he breathes in my ear 'I want to change.'…. And I wake up."  
The others contemplated this.  
"His name has to be somewhere in that dream." Miranda declared. Chloe and I nod.  
"Could it be a fruit?" Catarina suggests, and then starts tapping away on the keys. Thank god for Wifi.  
"Maybe, but you know I thinkthat's to feminine a topic for his-"  
Chloe exclaims in Korean. I caught a few scattered English words, but most was lost to me.  
"What's up? Are you okay?" I asked, and Chloe nodded. She pointed to her food and then her tongue.  
"Burnt my tongue, this soup is like liquid fire."  
Miranda asked for Cat's computer, and scrolled about, but soon exclaimed as well.  
"Hey! Cat, look around Google for Latin boy names—try to link them with fire."  
"Um, could you connect the dots for me please?" I asked, confused at this weird leap of thoughts.  
"Do it yourself, it's easy." She replied, and I thought back, mean while Cat read names aloud.  
"Foster- worthy, Emril- ingratiating, Orson- strong as a bear… I'm not finding any with fire."  
"Look some more, I think I've got it."  
Fire? There was the dress, and his eyes, and the room, all those candles with the angel, and he's always so warm, like he's meant to melt the ice around me. God that sounds corny…. Latin is his thing, off the top of his head he knew what my name meant.  
"Oh wait, Blaise, what about this one?" Catalina pointed to a name on the screen.

"You're here." I said. He nodded. We stood on the top of a hill, a fifteen minute bike ride from town, but that's all it took to get away from civilization.  
"Blaise, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper; you don't deserve to be treated like that. I… I'm really sorry." He looked me in the eye when he said this, and I laughed.  
"No sweat, I get the feeling that for you this is a life or death situation, Ignatius."

"Ignatius? What does that mean?" Chloe asked.  
"Firebrand." Miranda read. "But I don't know what that is."  
"A person who creates unrest, like a revolutionary." Catalina defined. I smiled.  
"That's it."

"You… that…" He looked torn between shock and joy, which kind of made his face look crazed.  
"Nice to finally meet you properly. Now tell me what this is all about, if you please." Clouds rolled in above us, and the wind picked up. Ignatius moved closer to me, as if shielding me from the elements.  
"Long story short, since I believe we're low on time, I'm who you think I am. But I don't want to be. It's a job that tears your soul apart, and I've been at it since the beginning. I couldn't leave though, because I had lost parts of myself and if I tried to relinquish the position, I would have ceased to exist. So I called out for help in the dreams of man, and you were the one who answered. Thanks by the way. Now I have to get the hell out of here before they catch up." He mussed up my hair and turned away, but I wasn't done yet.  
"Wait a minute! Who's catching up? And why didn't you know your own name, why did I have to find it?"  
He turned back to me, smiling like it was his birthday. "I'm being chased by people who hate me because I gave up my throne, and they don't like change. I didn't know my name because you had it. I kept it in my heart that right now it keeping your" He poked my sternum "blood pumping. I gave up my name in return for your life, so now we're even, right?" he sounded nonchalant, but I felt like it was a big act.  
"Okay, I can get how that works, but if they are looking for you, will they come here?" I grabbed his hand, and held it. My hand was cold. His was hot.  
He seemed to deflate a little, and held my hand back. "Yeah, they will. I was kind of worried about that actually, and I don't know how I'm going to say this, so here: You're going to die. It's just fated. You associate with me, you have a death wish. I didn't' tell you because I wanted to live, I get that I'm a selfish bastard. It's a fact." He stopped smiling and pulled me closer, wrapping his free arm around me.  
"I'm not in love with you." I said.  
"I know." He replied.  
"It's more of in lust." I said.  
"I know." He replied.  
"Can I come with you? If they're going to try and get me, might as well not stay where they can hurt people I do love…" I said.  
"..Sure." He replied.  
"I can't tell anybody, can I?" I asked.  
"Not a good idea." He answered.  
"Are you in love with me?" I asked.  
"Not yet, but close." He answered.  
"That's dumb." I said.  
"I know." He replied.  
Then we got into his car, I left my bike there.


End file.
